


Need or Want

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, HP: EWE, Post - Deathly Hallows, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She thinks it’s a choice between need or want, between think or feel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need or Want

The scents in the kitchen smell wonderful, the aroma causing Hermione’s stomach to growl when it first entices her out of her bedroom. Bill is cutting veg like a pro, and she takes a moment to enjoy observing him without his knowledge. His hair is loose, falling past his shoulders in a wave of ginger that she’s envious of because her hair never looks that pretty and soft. He’s wearing tight denims that have several faded spots, obviously a well-worn pair, and she thinks he’s wearing a t-shirt, but she can’t really tell from this angle.

“Did you want me to turn in a circle so you could admire the rest of me?”

His words interrupt her perusal, and she feels a faint flush spreading across her cheeks at having been caught. “I, uh, food smells good,” she stammers, wondering how on earth he knew she was there because she knows she’s quiet and stealthy, especially after spending so many months on the run hiding from everyone.

Bill looks over his shoulder at her and grins. “I don’t mind turning for you, pet. If you wait until I finish cutting this garlic, I’ll even do a little dance.”

“Prat,” she mutters, ducking her head and walking over to the small table set up in the kitchen. “It smells delicious. What are you making?”

“That’s my homemade sauce,” he tells her, motioning to the pot on the stove. “I just need to add more garlic, and it should be perfect. I’ve got pasta boiling in that, and there’s chicken roasting in the oven. Still no food allergies, right?”

“Right. Just…no mushrooms,” she says with a slight grimace. “If I never see fungi on my plate for the next ten years, I’ll be very happy. Do you need any help?”

“I can cook our meal. I’m guessing that you ate a lot of mushrooms on the run?” Bill glances at her and frowns. “You’ve lost too much weight, all of you have. The war’s over now, though, so you can start thinking about your health again.”

“Yes. A lot of fungi, tins of beans, occasionally some potatoes or other veg we could find.” Hermione shakes her head. “Eating was a necessity, but we didn’t have lavish meals. Hunger can make people turn on each other, I know that now.”

“You know too many things a woman your age shouldn’t have to have experienced.” He tosses the garlic into the sauce and stirs it before he faces her. “Is your room alright?”

She nods. “It’s lovely. I appreciate you giving me a place to stay. I didn’t want to impose on your mum, especially considering everything that’s happened, and I have nowhere else to go.” She draws patterns on the table with her fingertip. “May I ask what happened with Fleur?”

“It isn’t a hardship, Hermione. Mum’s got enough to deal with after losing Fred, hopefully not losing George, too. Plus, I thought you might need a break from Harry and Ron. The sea air will do you some good.” Bill sighs. “As for Fleur, it wasn’t working out. We realized after the marriage, but neither of us knew exactly what was wrong. She finally figured it out, and we’ve gone our separate ways. She’s a wonderful woman, you know? But she’s not the one for me, not anymore.” He pushes his hair back from his face, and her attention drifts to the scars on his skin. “Seems these bloody things do more damage than just ruining my pretty face.”

“They haven’t ruined anything,” she tells him without thinking. She bites her lip when she realizes what she’s said but straightens her shoulders instead of blushing. “They’re proof of your survival. I told Lavender the same thing. They symbolize how strong you are, and there’s nothing ugly about strength and surviving.”

“Your friend…I should owl her, tell her some of what I’ve learned in the months since I was attacked and left with these. She’ll need to know some of it,” he murmurs, staring at her intensely. “I’m not a werewolf, Hermione, but some of the tendencies do seem to have transferred with the scars. Sometimes, I think it would have been much easier if I’d just changed completely. I might be able to understand it better.”

“There isn’t much research on it because most victims are either killed or turned,” she agrees, curious about what tendencies he’s talking about. Lavender isn’t as scarred as Bill, most of hers being on her shoulder and chest and not her face, but she’s likely to have similar traits since the same man attacked them both while in his human form.

Bill studies her a moment and seems to know she’s curious. “There are certain urges. I eat more red meat at certain times of the month. I stay up later and feel drawn to the moon in a way I never did before. I yearn for someone who should belong to me and only me. That’s the reason my relationship with Fleur was doomed before it even began, not that we realized it then. She isn’t the one who calls to me in that primal way.”

Hermione can’t look away from him. “What kind of urges?”

“Things I eat. The way I react to some people. A need for quiet sometimes.” Bill tilts his head and slowly smiles. “And sexual urges. Claiming. Biting. Bruising. Owning. Hard and rough. Cherishing. I fight the urge to claim hard then spend hours just worshipping the one who tempts me.”

“Do you, uh, know who it is?” Hermione is flustered at Bill’s blunt talk, thinking about him and sex in the way he’s said. She can’t imagine any woman refusing him, so maybe it’s more complicated than she knows? Perhaps the one he’s talking about is married, too, and doesn’t want to divorce as easily as Bill and Fleur agreed to do.

“I know. I’ve known for a few weeks now.” Bill turns back to his sauce, and she waits, expecting him to tell her more. Only, he doesn’t, which is frustrating.

“Well, have you spoken with her? Does she feel the same? Is it worth losing Fleur over?” she asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Not really, possibly, yes.” Bill puts the pot off the burner and turns back to face her. “I’m still trying to figure out the right way to tell her, but I think she’s attracted to me, at least, and it’s worth letting Fleur have a life where she might someone to give her what she needs regardless of what happens with my situation.”

Hermione nods. “I don’t really know if there is a right way to explain this, Bill. It might be best to just meet with her and tell her what’s going on, then let her have time to think about it and make a choice. What if she rejects you?”

He growls softly, and she feels goosebumps on her arms as he stares at her intently. “Rejection isn’t really an option.” He clears his throat and runs his hand over his face. “I mean, I wouldn’t force her, obviously, and I’d try to respect her choice, but I wouldn’t just give up and walk away with my tail between my legs, so to speak. I’d try to woo her and, if that didn’t work, I’d seduce her. I’m quite good at that, you know?”

“I’m sure you are,” she murmurs, almost envious of this woman who calls to whatever Greyback left inside him. “Well, then, I’d say just be honest because that starts things off on the right foot between the two of you.”

“I’ve already started telling her,” he admits. “I’m providing shelter for her, providing sustenance, showing her that I can take care of her basic needs.” He’s walked around the table as he speaks, and her mouth is suddenly dry when she feels his hands on her shoulders. “I’m baring my throat to her right now, showing her my vulnerability and trusting her not to hurt me.”

“Right now?” she repeats quietly. His fingers are kneading her shoulders now, pointer fingers rubbing against her neck on both sides.

“I think I need to show her that I can take care of _all_ her needs so she has the full picture in mind when she considers her choices.” Bill moves his right hand down her shoulder until he’s squeezing her breast. Her breath catches as her nipple hardens, pressing against his palm.

“Bill, what are you…”

“You’re the clever one, Hermione.” He interrupts her, both hands on her breasts now, teasing her nipples through her shirt. “Think about it. When you and the others arrived here from Malfoy Manor, I had to fight the urge to go slaughter that woman for what she’d done to you. That’s when Fleur knew it was you, that you were the one I need. Let me show how well I can take care of you before you say anything else. Let me lick you until you come. Let me fuck you until you fall apart. Let me have you. Let me love you. Just say yes, Hermione. That’s all you have to do. We’ll be so good together, I know we will. Just say yes. Please?”

It’s the please that does it. Well, that and the way his hands are arousing her with how he’s touching her breasts and nipples. She needs to think, to get away from him and research and figure out what he’s experiencing, to put space between them. But she wants to give in, to let him touch her, to have sex with him, to be his in the way he’s spoken about. _Need. Want. Think. Feel. Need. Want. Think. Feel._ It keeps repeating in her brain until she’s had enough. She looks up at him and licks her lips. “Yes, Bill.”

End


End file.
